


Dust and Memories

by Fallen_Angel_Meg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Domestic, Domestic Castiel, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Memories, domestic!Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Angel_Meg/pseuds/Fallen_Angel_Meg
Summary: Castiel finds an old box that's filled with nothing but memories of Dean Winchester.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Supernatural Prompt Challenge [September 2016]  
> Theme: Childhood  
> Prompt: Toys

The box sits patiently on the coffee table, the decent layer of dust clinging stubbornly to its surfaces despite Castiel’s awkward hold on it as he nearly tripped down the ladder from the attic with it. He stares at it for a moment, wondering what memories will surface when he opens it. They should be nothing short of good memories, but then why is Castiel so nervous?  
  
He snickers at himself, picking up the towel next to him to wipe off the dust, hoping to catch most of it from clouding into the air and not only making him sneeze, but from settling on the recently dusted furniture. When Castiel passes the towel over the top, he finds two sets of handwriting. One is the slightly sloppy cursive he wrote with in high school, the other made up of clear, capitalized letters that scream all sorts of character.  
  
Ah, that’s why he’s so nervous. Because this box contains memories involving Dean Winchester. And frankly, anything involving Dean makes Castiel’s heart flutter. Still, after all this time. Even so, he smiles faintly to himself, touching the black letters that crossed out the sloppy script that said _Dean’s Stuff_ to replace it with _CAS’ STUFF_ underneath. He remembers that day. The day Dean helped him pack up his things to go off to college. How he labeled this box especially for all the things he shared with Dean throughout the years – his own little box of _Dean_ \- but Dean thought he was trying to return it all and renamed the box when Castiel’s back was turned.  
  
It seems like so long ago.  
  
Castiel drags his hand away from the capital lettering and grabs the box cutter, using it to tear through the old tape so he can pry the flaps apart. Inside looks untouched, like one of those time capsules people bury underground to dig up however many years later. It instantly takes him back.  
  
The first thing he sees on top is a worn bumblebee Beanie Baby and Castiel’s heart all but melts. It’s the thing that convinced Castiel that Dean was his friend. Dean was someone special.  
  
Castiel was the new kid. He didn’t start second grade with any reputation other than being the quiet boy with a weird name. The other kids stayed away from him, like he was some kind of alien invading their school in the form of a human child. But apparently, aliens are only cool when they’re green with metallic space suits and laser guns. Not that Castiel minded much. He preferred the quiet part of the playground where he’d sit away from all the other kids running around screaming and laughing and playing games. He didn’t mind it, but that’s not to say it got lonely sometimes.  
  
He longed for a friend to eat lunch with, to talk with, or simply someone to sit with him and take in the world around them. Castiel felt completely invisible sometimes. The other children would avoid eye contact or speedily walk past him on the playground or in the hallways. Whenever he did catch someone’s eye, he’d overhear their failed attempt at whispering to their friend something like, “Oh no, the weird kid looked at me!” That’s how everyone treated him.  
  
Well, everyone except Dean Winchester.  
  
Whenever Castiel caught Dean’s distinct green eyes looking at him, he didn’t look away as if he’d gotten burned. He didn’t lean over and whisper to his friends. Most of the time, he _did_ look away, but the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth was different from how everyone else averted their eyes. Castiel found himself seeking out Dean more and more, eager to make that connection with someone. Eager to be seen.  
  
Gradually, the stares got longer and longer to where it seemed like a game they played without ever talking before. Despite that strange, long distance friendship he’d developed with Dean, Castiel was still shocked as ever when Dean approached him one day at recess, fumbling awkwardly with that bumblebee Beanie Baby before asking Castiel if he wanted to play.  
  
All Castiel could do was bite back a smile and nod, an indescribable amount of joy radiating through his body as Dean sat beside him, digging out some plastic army men from his pants pocket and together, they played a game they dubbed Mutant Bee Invasion. Sometimes the army guys won. Sometimes the bee won.  
  
That year when it was Castiel’s birthday, Dean gave him the bee to keep. Castiel kept it on his nightstand, sleeping with it whenever he needed to remind himself he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.  
  
Castiel runs his fingers over the soft fabric of the bumblebee as he reminisces. He’d not really had any toy he was attached to when he was younger, but once Dean gave this to him it became his more treasured item, by far. It meant so much more than a toy.  
  
He sets the Beanie Baby beside him on the couch, ready to discover what else has been hiding away in this box. There’s a lot of things scattered about, things that should be considered useless and thrown out, but Castiel remembers the story behind each item. He can’t bring himself to consider any of it trash.  
  
There’s all the old movie ticket stubs that Castiel loved to keep, which Dean would always roll his eyes at and say _‘Cas, what are you ever going to do with them? It’s not like you scrapbook or anything.’_ Castiel would only shrug and pocket the little piece of paper, responding with, _‘I like saving fragments of the adventures we take, no matter how small.’_ Despite Dean’s snickering, it never failed that if Castiel lost his ticket stub somehow, Dean always gave him his to keep.  
  
Among the movie ticket stubs, there are some of the notes Dean passed to him throughout their years in school. Again, he probably should’ve thrown them out years ago, but Castiel liked unfolding them when he was alone in his room, smiling to himself as his eyes trailed over the capital letters. These notes were never profound – sometimes only containing short messages like the one in his hands that reads, _‘Sammy’s play is this weekend. Are you coming?’_ Then again, anything revolving around Dean was always profound to Castiel.  
  
Next, Castiel pulls out an old CD case with a special disk inside. When he opens the case, it actually comes off the plastic hinges with how cracked and damaged it is, but the CD inside is in perfect condition. The black Sharpie that lists out the various songs is still clear and legible, not a single scratch on the disk itself. This is the playlist Dean made Castiel in middle school. It has all their favorite songs on it and they listened to it all the time. As much as they played the CD, Castiel always made sure it was handled with care when being transferred in and out of CD players and stereos. He’s half tempted to get up and play it now but decides to wait, silence being the best soundtrack as he disappears further down memory lane.  
  
Setting the CD down, he digs through the box again. Under all the random paper stuff is a neatly folded, black _AC/DC_ shirt and Castiel immediately pulls it out, something falling with a thump from within the folds but he barely pays attention to it.  
  
This is Dean’s shirt. The one he let Castiel borrow a couple times and somehow, it just became a permanent item in his closet.  
  
Castiel always tried to give it back, but Dean insisted he keep it. He was confused how whenever he wore it, he’d catch Dean eyeing the shirt on him, the corner of his mouth lifted just barely into a smile. It was only later, after friendship turned into something more that Dean admitted he really liked how it looked on Castiel. Something about having a thing for seeing Castiel wearing his clothes.  
  
He brings the shirt to his nose and inhales, though met with disappointment. It doesn’t smell like Dean anymore. It doesn’t even smell like Castiel, who usually ended up smelling like Dean anyway because whenever he wore it, it drove Dean crazy, unable to resist keeping his hands off Castiel. But now there’s nothing. Just a dusty smell from sitting in a box for too long.  
  
It’s kind of sad. To have something that holds countless memories fade until it’s appears to be any other ordinary item.  
  
Castiel frowns, folding it back up and setting it aside. His eyes fall on a wooden picture frame, a large crack in the glass and he instantly scoops it up. This must’ve been what fell out of the shirt, Castiel’s eagerness clearly having a price.  
  
He runs his finger down the long crack in the glass, finally looking at the picture in the frame and he blushes, nipping at his bottom lip. It’s of him and Dean on prom night. It’s not even a picture they posed for, just some candid Dean’s mother caught of them in between takes. Castiel leans down to get a closer look at the way he’s standing close to Dean, head craned towards his ear with the smallest of smiles on his lips as Dean’s looking downwards, the grin lighting up his entire face not missed. It was when they were just starting to test the waters that were deeper than friendship, their junior prom being one of their first ‘dates’.  
  
How could Castiel forget about this picture though? After Dean’s mother developed the pictures, Dean acted embarrassed about it and brushed it off. It was only when Castiel left for college that Dean admitted to Castiel how much he liked it – enough that he framed it to look at whenever he wanted. He’d given the picture to Castiel as a sort of going away present to help remember him. As if Castiel could _ever_ forget Dean.  
  
Castiel couldn’t forget him even if he tried. And try he did. Because when it was over between them, Castiel was devastated. He’d thought - even _promised_ \- that him going away to college while Dean stayed home to take classes at a local community college wouldn’t ruin their relationship. He should’ve never made such a promise. But how else was he supposed to soothe Dean’s insecurities about it? How could he have guessed that Dean would show up for a surprise visit while one of his newly made friends, Meg, was hanging out in his room?  
  
Sure, Meg had a thing for him and she was a beautiful woman, but once she understood how Castiel felt about Dean, she backed off. Castiel knew Meg came from a rough background and, though she’d never admit it, she was aching to be close to someone. Someone who listened when she talked and didn’t denounce her as a lesser being. So whenever Meg sat a little too close or continued to call Castiel her pet name for him, Castiel knew it wasn’t for flirtation purposes anymore. She just wanted to feel a connection with someone. A feeling Castiel knew all too well before he met Dean.  
  
Castiel understood that, but Dean definitely didn’t. No, when Castiel answered the knock at his door with Meg ducking under his arm while jokingly asking _‘This your other woman, Clarence?’_ , Dean was livid.  
  
Then came that terrible fight. Dean accused Castiel of cheating, which couldn’t be further from the truth, but Dean brushed off any of Castiel’s pleas to convince him he’d never once considered such an idea. It wasn’t until Meg told Dean off, validating Castiel’s fidelity before leaving them alone that Dean guiltily revoked his accusation. It should’ve been fine then. But it wasn’t.  
  
Castiel was hurt that Dean automatically thought Castiel would betray him like that. That he would give any part of himself intimately to another person. They’d never exchanged the words _I love you_ before, but Castiel knew he loved Dean. Dean’s doubt hurt so much.  
  
And Dean wasn’t feeling any better either. He confessed how hard it is with them being apart, how he was so sure Castiel would leave him high and dry after finding someone new at college. It was only a matter of time.  
  
That night, they reluctantly agreed to end their relationship.  
  
Devastation was all Castiel knew for a while, going through periods of numbing sadness to anger. He’d stare at the picture Dean gave him, reread all their old notes, sleep in Dean’s t-shirt, listen to their special playlist on repeat and even brought the little bumblebee to bed with him. But none of it would bring Dean back. It only filled his heart with loneliness and longing, so he did what was best. He shoved everything that was related to Dean back in the box it all came in and hid it under his bed, well out of reach so it’d be difficult to retrieve if he ever tried.  
  
And that’s where this stuff has been sitting ever since.  
  
Castiel shakes his head softly, sifting through the rest of the stuff – some seashells they collected from their first solo trip to the beach when Dean got his license, a wilted boutonniere with blue flowers Dean gave him to wear for their senior prom, at least half a dozen strips of silly photo booth pictures Castiel begged Dean to do throughout the years.  
  
Castiel’s so lost in thought he barely hears the front door open and close, jumping when arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him against a strong chest that’s leaned over the back of the couch.  
  
“What’s all this?” a warm voice murmurs in his ear after pressing a kiss to Castiel’s temple.  
  
He chuckles, relaxing from his scare and holding up one of the photo booth picture strips for his husband to see –this one with four different photos, the first with Dean looking grumpy and the last of them mid laughing at each other’s funny faces. “I was clearing some old boxes from the attic when I found this one.”  
  
There’s a snort as the pictures are taken from his hand for closer inspection. “Talk about an old flame.”  
  
Castiel sweeps his gaze over all the stuff laid out on the coffee table. “Yes, very old.”  
  
His husband hums, circling around the couch to drop next to Castiel. “I’ll bet he’s saying the same thing about you.”  
  
Castiel bites his lip, pulling the bumblebee into his lap and staring down at it as his fingers stroke over the black wings. “I doubt I cross his mind all that much.”  
  
A snicker. “I seriously doubt that.”  
  
Castiel shrugs, keeping his eyes lowered. “But why? I’m nothing special. And he…”  
  
Silence falls between them, Castiel’s unfinished sentence hanging in the air until the stillness is broken with a simple prompt, “He…?”  
  
Castiel huffs a laugh, cheeks warming. “He’s... I can’t believe he ever chose me. Whenever I think about him approaching me all those years ago, asking me to play with him, I just don’t understand why. And then how as we grew up together, he continued to choose me. He was more than I deserved.”  
  
An arm wraps around Castiel, pulling him close. “No he wasn’t. He doubted you. He left you. He was the biggest idiot ever for doing that. _You’re_ the one he never deserved.”  
  
Castiel turns his head, finding green eyes watching him with a touch of guilt. “But he got me back.”  
  
The corner of his husband’s mouth quirks upwards. “Still don’t know how that happened.”  
  
Castiel grins, closing the space between them and pressing a tender kiss to those soft lips. “Because I love you, Dean. That’s how.”  
  
Dean kisses him back tenderly, hand sliding up to cup Castiel’s cheek before breaking away to lean their foreheads together, chuckling. “I can’t believe you dug up all this old stuff. Talk about nostalgia.”  
  
Castiel hums. “I know. We've come so far since then.”  
  
Dean snorts. “Yeah. Went from playing house to now we own one.”  
  
“Speaking of playing real life house,” Castiel presses a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips before gathering everything back into the box, “You promised it would be burger night and I’m starving.”  
  
That provokes a laugh from Dean, a sound that Castiel never tires of hearing. “Okay Mr. Bossy Ass. I’ll get right on that.”  
  
A smile stretches wide across Castiel’s face but even when he turns to flash Dean that teasing smile, he finds Dean staring at him with all the softness in the world. He cocks his head to the side and before he can question it, Dean reaches forward, sliding his hand around the back of Castiel’s neck and kissing him, love and longing radiating off him in waves. It almost worries Castiel because where did that come from so suddenly?  
  
When Dean pulls back, staring at him with that adoration again, Castiel raises his eyebrows questioningly. “Dean?”  
  
Dean laughs under his breath, shaking his head slowly but never taking his eyes away from Castiel’s. “I just love you so much, Cas. And I… I never want us to go through that again. I never want another day to go by without you knowing how much you mean to me.”  
  
Warmth fills Castiel’s body at hearing Dean’s words. It’s not like they’re shy about saying the word _love_ now, but just like this box of memories brought back many emotions for Castiel, it’s probably doing the same for Dean and no matter how long ago that bad break up was, Dean still blames himself for it happening. Castiel’s reassurance never seems enough to convince Dean it wasn’t his fault.  
  
The box holds so many memories, but none of the new ones they made together.  
  
This box doesn’t have how when Castiel came home that summer after completing his freshmen year, Dean was there. He came to apologize. Castiel apologized too. And then they tried again, their second time around much more successful, evident by the fact that they’re married now, their lives intertwined tightly with one another. The box is good, filled with plenty of memories to smile at, but it’s just not complete.  
  
“It’s okay, Dean. I’m not going anywhere. How could I ever leave my entire world?” Castiel murmurs.  
  
A smile breaks out across Dean’s face as his cheeks redden. “You’re such a sap.”  
  
Castiel shrugs, returning the smile. “Come on. I’ll help you in the kitchen.”  
  
They get up from the couch, Castiel gingerly setting the bumblebee Beanie Baby on the coffee table, already deciding it will have a permanent place in their bedroom even though he knows Dean will whine about it. That toy has too much history embedded in it to be forgotten in a box again.  
  
“Hey, bring that playlist with you. I wanna listen to it while we make dinner,” Dean calls over his shoulder and Castiel snickers, swiping the CD from the table along with their candid photo with the broken glass.  
  
“Now who’s the sap?” Castiel teases, following him into the kitchen.  
  
“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Dean grumbles but glances over his shoulder with a smile that’s nothing but sappy.  
  
Castiel, carefully as he always did, puts the disk in their old stereo and cranks up the volume as the first song plays like it did countless other times. It’s a bit strange to have these two worlds colliding. The world that he and Dean knew as they were young and ignorant with the world they live in now. The world of them growing up to the world of them just living _life_.  
  
But it’s nice – listening to Dean sing along as he makes mouthwatering burgers while Castiel works on discarding the broken glass from the picture frame and replacing it with the glass from an empty frame they never filled because Dean complained it was ugly. Looking at the picture of them in high school with the new glass slid into place, Castiel smiles. He never thought the boy who played Mutant Bee Invasion with him at recess would be the same man he’d devote his entire heart to - the boy he grew up with would be the man he grows old with. It’s a sappy thought, one that makes his heart swell with happiness warming every inch of him.  
  
He’s really glad he opened that dusty box.

**Author's Note:**

> :)  
> [My Tumblr](http://blissfulcastiel.tumblr.com)


End file.
